


Lets Try Us

by KoolKat9



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: A little bit of cuddling, England being stubborn, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Romance, Roses, Two Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29844303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoolKat9/pseuds/KoolKat9
Summary: It is no secret that France absolutely loves roses. Although many have chalked up the reason for this love was because the rose was a symbol of love and romance, nobody knows the true reason. After what seems to be another failed attempt at wooing England, said nation finds out the true reason behind France’s love for the flower and ends up agreeing to one date.
Relationships: England/France (Hetalia)
Kudos: 16





	1. Roses

Today was going to be the day France convinced England to go on a date with him. For the past century or so, the French nation had been showing up to meetings and his crush's door with a bouquet of red roses and proclaimed his love for him. Every time, England shut him down or ignored him, but today was going to be different because today, he was going to prove his love for the Englishman.

As per usual he had a bouquet of bright red roses tied together by a lovely white ribbon. As he waited outside the meeting hall, he inspected the roses, ensuring each one was lively and bright, just like his Angleterre.

"What the hell are you still doing here frog?" a familiar voice asked. France looked up to meet two bright green eyes, shining like emeralds under the light of the street lamps.

"Good evening Angleterre," he cooed. England simply rolled his eyes, eventually bringing his attention to the flowers

"I told you before, no!"

"I didn't even say anything."

England shook his head and began heading back home, just wanting to go to bed and not think about France for one damn minute. But that man would stop at nothing and England knew it, so it was no surprise that France followed him.

"Do you know why I love roses so much?" France asked.

England froze in his tracks, his heartbeat picking up at the words.

France only continued, dropping his gaze to the bouquet of bright red roses in his hand, "it's funny that the country of France doesn't love irises instead. I never could bring myself to love them more than red roses. They are truly beautiful as well as fierce. They may have spikes and if you're not careful, they'll hurt you, but they are still so wonderful. Much like the nation that holds them as his national flower." Ever so slowly, England turned around to face the Frenchman, earning a smile from him. "The reason I love roses so much is that they remind me of you mon amour." A light blush began to spread across his cheeks as he went on, "I know it's cheesy, but it's true. I love you so much Angleterre. I know we fight all the time and we have done terrible things to each other, but that doesn't change the way I feel about you. "

England felt his own cheeks go warm at France's words. His mind screamed at him to ignore these antics and just walk away as always. After all, France was France. He flirted with everyone, smelled like cheese, and was a thorn in the Englishman's side for as long as he could remember. At the same time, France was always there for him and had this weird way of comforting him in his own annoying way for as long as he could remember. "One date," France stated, now inches away from England, "then we'll see where we stand." England's face went redder as he noticed how close France was. He thought it over, trying not to look at France's stupid face with his shining blue eyes and sweet smile. "Fine," England finally responded, snatching the bouquet from France and turning to head back home. France was left behind in awe. He had actually done it! He held in a squeal as he began planning the perfect date for his Angleterre. "I'll text you the details," he called, before turning in the opposite direction to return to his hotel.


	2. Lets Try Us

"So? What do you have planned frog? A romantic candlelit dinner? A carnival? A stroll on the beach?"

"Not even close mon amour."

"A picnic?"

"Non. I'm not telling."

England let out a small growl. He still couldn't believe he was there, in France's car, on their way to their first date. He couldn't believe he even agreed to it in the first place. It definitely wasn't because he was flattered by France's reasoning of liking roses or that he actually liked France. If anyone asked, he could always chalk it up to boredom or getting a free meal (or both). Either way, he had to accept the fact he was about to spend his whole evening with the man he claimed to hate so much. At least he wasn't terrible on the eyes.

"A café?" England asked once more despite knowing France wasn't budging. Said man only ignored him with an annoying smile spreading across his face. It made England want to punch him (even though he got a weird feeling in his stomach at the sight), but he didn't. 'Too much energy' he told himself.

They eventually stopped in a little dirt parking lot. The sun was already setting, giving a golden tint to the meadow before them. It was beautiful, peaceful, taking England back to the small section of his life where he knew nothing of wars, hatred, or death; a time of innocence.

"The flowers are beautiful this time of year hmm?" France stated, wrapping an arm around England's waist and pulling him out of his thoughts.

"What are you planning?"

France gave him a smirk, pulling him towards the field. "You'll see." He guided him into the field and sat him down in the tall grass. He cocked a brow, unsure of what the Frenchman was getting at, but weirdly enough, he wasn't worried that France was going to try something. France took a seat in front of him. He fidgeted slightly, his cheeks tinted pink which only confused England further. "Okay," France began with a breath, "so it may seem a little silly, but...I wanted us to just spend some time talking and...you know...making a few flower crowns for old time's sake."

England felt his heartbeat quicken. Here was France, the man he claimed to hate, looking so innocent. His blue eyes looked at him with both expectancy and hesitancy and the way his hair framed his face made him look younger than usual. He was slightly hunched over as if trying to hide himself. Although he hated to admit it, France was beautiful always, but at this moment he was absolutely breathtaking.

"Angleterre?"

"S-Sorry. Um..." As tried reaching for what he wanted to say, France began picking at the nearby flowers. "What are you-"

"Making a flower crown. Now quit gawking and start weaving. I know I'm a pretty face, but-"

"Who would want to stare at your ugly mug?"

"You just were cher."

He felt his cheeks go warm and he brought his gaze to the flowers. "W-Was not." Despite his embarrassment, he took the frog's advice and began making his own flower creation 

"Whatever you say..."

Yep, he definitely hated him. With his annoying accent, obnoxious smile, perfect hair, handsome face. All of it bugged England to no end. Especially those last two because he hated to admit them to be true. But the thing he hated most about France was what the Frenchman made him feel. He always got him flustered with one look, made his heart beat faster when he walked into a room and his throat tightened whenever he attempted to have a civil conversation with him. And he knows France is aware of his effect on him which made everything worse.

He was too wrapped up in denying his feelings that he hadn't even noticed when France placed a flower crown on his head. He did notice the kiss on the cheek however which earned France a shove.

"You are so cruel mon amour." Despite the smile on his face, there seemed to be some truth to his words and that made England's stomach twist. "But I love you regardless."

"Yeah okay."

France gave him a smirk, moving in closer once more, running his fingers over England's scorching cheek. "I am being truthful. Why do you doubt me and deny your feelings?"

England dropped this string of flowers, his going throat dry and his mind fuzzy. He wanted to push him away, he wanted to scream at him and above all, he wanted to hate him. But he couldn't hate him. He could say the words 'I hate you,' but never mean it. In truth, he loved France so much it hurt. Ever since they were children, such feelings had been festering. Even when they were at war, those feelings remain, though it would take centuries for England to finally accept it. "I-I-I don't know what your-"

France's smirk fell into a frown. "Arthur, don't you ever tire of your excuses? Of denying yourself of something you really want? I know you are scared of getting hurt. I am too. It's all we seem to be good at. But I've come to realize, not even trying hurts more. Don't you agree?"

England clenched his teeth. He didn't trust himself to not just pour his feelings out right then and there so he kept quiet.

"Can I kiss you?" France asked softly, leaning in even closer to England.

"Fine..."

With given permission, France gently pressed his lips against England. The touch sent electricity racing through his body and cleared his mind of any thought. He hesitantly began kissing back. It was slow and long at first as both tested out the waters, but became more heated and fast as they became more comfortable. England's hand made their way into France's hair, pulling slightly while France wrapped his arms around England's waist, pulling them closer together.

They pulled away with red faces and ragged breaths. France cuddled into England's chest as their breathing returned to normal. "That was amazing," England murmured, still feeling the high of the kiss.

France snuggled further into his chest. "But of course it was with me after all." England gave him a playful slap on his arm, though there was no maliciousness to it.

"We can try this," England said after a moment of silence.

"What?"

"We can try us. This. Romance."

France pushed himself up to face England with a look in between excitement and shock. "Really?"

"Don't make me say it again," he groaned.

France gave him a wide grin that made England's heart stop and leaned in for another kiss. And as the sunset over the meadow, France kissed every inch of England's exposed skin until they were both a laughing mess and the sun had fallen behind the trees.


End file.
